


( distant trumpet sounds )

by dynamites



Category: GOT7, NCT (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-31 13:09:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8579773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dynamites/pseuds/dynamites
Summary: Tales for those in love and those in denial.(short stories for friends)





	1. ronnie n her egghead lol

She shivers. The night looked bleak before and somehow it looks even bleaker. Despite the cold she walks on deliberately, watching her breath brighten underneath the dim streetlights and billow away softly.

This would have never happened if her phone didn't run out of battery. Otherwise, she would've pulled Google Maps up and bounced right the fuck out of these damp cobbly streets. 

However the reality of the situation was, was that she had used the rest of her phone's juice to harvest her crops on Hay Day.

She didn't necessarily regret it though.

But what she doesn't get, is why the farther she walks, the more desolate the road gets. Wasn't this the route back to her hotel? And how come none of her roommates are driving around calling for her name, and wondering where in the world was she? They're all fakes, apparently.

And whenever she glances upward, the moon seems to shine brighter than it did just a minute ago. Ronnie can't believe the moon is mocking her like this. All the buildings she passes too are hollow of life, and Ronnie considers just sleeping outside and waiting until sunrise to ask around for directions. But that's absurd-- there's not even beggars, nor thieves, nor the friendly midnight dog walker in sight.

Everything is so dark that without the moon and the street lights, she might as well as just shut her eyes.

And of course she's tired and hungry too. But to be truthful, Ronnie's just glad the clouds hadn't started pouring, or something equally miserable to track through outside.

After an hour of slow treading, she becomes aware that somehow she's travelling on a hill and it also becomes sharply clear that this was not the way of her hotel.

And if she's seeing correctly, there's a flickering light in the distant, in the great shadow of a house, and it beckons her. If a house has electricity, that means she can charge her phone. Yeehaw!

Immediately she puts thrust into her walking and conjures up several different methods to talk to the house owner about letting her into their house to charge her phone. She mustn't be too forward or else they'll think she means bad intentions, nor too sidestepping, which could imply bad intentions too.

She walks up to the door nimbly and with short prepared breaths, she knocks thrice. 

The heavy door creaks open.

Of course, in a typical event, Ronnie was smart enough to realize that this shit's suspicious enough already. But it's not a typical event, and Ronnie is truly freezing out in the chilly autumn air. She makes no noise as she slips in.

"Hello?" Ronnie says softly at first. "Hello?" The clench on her phone tightens.

"Hello?" Her voice seems to echo back at her.

It smells... homely. There's dust on the counters but for the most part, the mansion smells of life and cleanliness. She traces the edges of the wood carvings on the walls and feels strangely comforted in the dark. The living room intrigues her, just on the far end of the corridor, as she sees warm orange light spilling out from it.

The living room is also vacant, but littered with various books and tapes on the coffee table. Ronnie doesn't dare touch them as there's something quite... obscure about this room. She turns round and round, inspecting the furniture and walls until she realizes two things: one thing being that the walls were a musty green paisley, and the second being that there were only mirrors upon the said walls.  
They were of various sizes, some thin some wide, but all of them stared back at her with the same fervor. Ronnie is quick to bring her gaze downwards.

On the same messy glass table, she spots a dish of wrapped strawberry candies and immediately it relieves her. Clearly this mansion belongs to old rich grandmas that are sure to treat Ronnie nicely despite her sudden... entry.

She strides over to the shallow dish quickly, snatching one and unwrapping it with shaky fingers. Then she stops. It had come to her that these candies could be ancient, just as old as time itself. 

She shrugs. Life doesn't get more shittier than the position she was already in, so she takes the chance and pops it into her mouth. It's fruity.

She shoves her phone away and glances around, eyes bright and wondrous. Who lived here? Who _would_ live here? The distinct lack of wall outlets unsettled her greatly. Above her, the chandelier seems to chime to a silent wind. 

With a few refurbishments, Ronnie could live there if she'd liked. And could afford. But the only items in her pockets was a tube of lip balm and 59 cents that jingled whenever she walked.

Not even enough for McChicken Nuggets.

And, of course, the dead phone.

The mirror above the living room's fireplace gleams once, and Ronnie startles, dropping the candy wrapper and watching it flutter onto the ground. She fixates her gaze back onto her mirror self and freezes.

She turns. And there it was. Letting out a strangled yelp, Ronnie's strawberry candy almost falls out of her mouth.

She faints.

Except she doesn't and the strange, silent man in all denim looks at her peculiarly.

"Don't call the cops," she says meekly.

He raises his empty palms. "That's fine. You should've shut the door though. It's quite cold out."

Suddenly she feels the evening chills so much more than she did just a few minutes ago. She doesn't even have enough breath to apologize. The man combs his fingers through his hair. In normal circumstances she might have even complimented his attire, seeing that in the light, he's wearing both a light-washed jean top and bottom. Sexy.

"Well, that's okay, I'll get it in a bit. And sorry I couldn't answer you when you entered," he fixes his denim jacket collar, "I was busy."

Busy.  
Ronnie can't help but show bewilderment through the scrunch of her eyebrows and shaky eyes. How was it that this man was so nonchalant, seeing a stranger in his living room, eating his sweets? The strawberry candy doesn't seem to taste so deliciously fruity anymore.

"So, uh, what's your name?" he says.

"Veronica," she hears herself say around the hard candy, and it's absolutely dreadful. She could've said any other name in this entire universe but lies are cheap at this point and she fears that if he ever suspected a lie, it wouldn't end well. It might've been best if she'd made a ruckus so he'd call the cops after all.

In an alternate universe, AU Ronnie walked past this house and never looked back.

"Veronica? That's cute. I don't think I know anyone with that name." He steps around the table, becoming a step closer to Ronnie. Her heart is about to pop right out of its rib cage but she keeps her eyes focused.

"I don't mean any trouble," she sputters, backing up quickly, uninterested in his ramblings. "I just--"

"No, it's okay! No harm in what you've done. Just walked into a very foreign house, with a foreign being, that's all."

What kind of dusty language.

"Again, I'm sorry, I just-- I'm lost," Ronnie says hastily. "I'm not from around here."

"Veronica," he says simply, with a certain amused ring in his voice, "you seem like a nice girl. What is it that you want?"

"I just... I was wondering if. If I could charge my phone for an hour here? Then I'll leave and never bother you again, sir." Sir? Since when did she call men her age sir?

"Charge?" He tilts his head. "Do you mean you'd like to make a call? Sorry, the phones don't work anymore. They're just here for decor." He points at one in the corner, a faded red old dial phone. "Doesn't that look nice over there?"

She stays quiet, her eyes bolted to the ground-- and she feels her heartbeat rising to an unstable rhythm. She truly wonders if she's about to die. What kind of heathen didn't have service anyway? She takes back whatever she said about wanting this house as her own. Whilst her eyes trail the ground, she comes to a conclusion that this room had no outlets. How animalistic of this denim dude.

"So no, I can't call the cops anyway. I don't even know if this house is on their directory. In fact, how did you get here?"

Her trigger reaction is to say something snappy like, "I teleported," but her tongue seems lifeless within her mouth and there's something _so_ interesting in the way he's sizing her up. So all she says in response is: "I was lost."

"Huh. That's what they all seem to say."

There's a moment, a quick flash of a moment, and she wonders if she can somehow spit the candy right into his left eye or somehow snag the candleholder on the table and smack the man in the head so she make a beeline right out of there but--

Suddenly the candleholder isn't on the dresser table anymore. In fact, it has disappeared completely from her line of sight but Ronnie's so afraid that if she turns away, he'll vanish, so she doesn't dare look away. But the candy is still in her mouth, obviously.

"Veronica, let's relax a bit. You're so pretty, did you know that? I'm sure you did. I just had to say that anyway." He clears his throat. "I'm Jaehyun and I live here. So as head of this house, I allow you to rest a night here if that's so much what you would like."

"A night? Can't you just tell me how to get back to town?"

"To town?" he snorts. "I barely know where that is anymore myself. But if you're wondering if this is safe or whatever, it's all Gucci since I'm heading out tonight. So it'll be like... you're the head of the house! That's pretty nice, in my opinion."

He stops. "Except sometimes it's kind of lonely. But I'm sure you're going to be alright."

Ronnie has never before felt so much like a deer caught in the headlights of confusion. Was he buttering her up to brutally murder her later? Impossible-- he might be taller but there's no reason that Ronnie couldn't tackle him down and bite his shoulder until he cries right now.

"Don't worry, Veronica-- can I call you Ronnie?" Without waiting for a response, he continues, "Ronnie, don't worry. I'll keep you safe. And besides, I won't bite."

He smiles. "Yet." And with that split second, she could have sworn he had fangs. At the same moment, she accidentally swallows her candy.

 

"Ronnie!" yells Ina out into the autumn air. Underneath her, her moped sputters sadly and her faux leather seat is freezing her ass off. She's tired. "Where are you? We've got shit to do tomorrow! Ronnie!"


	2. ina n her emo :"/

The only noises audible through the hallways was the malfunctioning printer that Ina's been trying to operate for a good five minutes. She's nothing short but exhausted and disappointed in herself at this point-- only a month into her new school, and already she's being dragged behind by her own schoolwork. How ridiculous. 

And it's not even like it's significantly difficult either. But there's something so satisfying with pushing your work to the deadline and sleeping in a little more than necessary everyday.

But she's reaping the results of that procrastination as she waits impatiently for the printer to shit out a clean copy of her English essay, but it truly seems to be stalling. It's sensing her fear.

Come on, thinks Ina, you stupid dumb fuck of a machine. Get it together.

It beeps in response. Ina chews her lip thoughtfully, glancing back at the computer, about to try it again for the final time before showing up empty-handed to class.

The printer gods must've heard her this time, as the dusty machine buzzes once more and spits out her paper just as the bell rings for the next period.

Grabbing it quickly, she speeds out the room, nearly knocking into someone.

"Sorry!" she yells over her shoulder. Only she's not, really, because is it really her fault if someone wasn't looking and bumped into _her?_ Of course not.

 

She did it again. 

It's only been a week since her last interaction with the cursed printer on the first floor, but she's back again for its help. Next block, Ina's got a lab report due and of course she forgot to print it out last night. Of course.

In spite of this, she's distinctly grateful she even finished it at all.

On the other hand, some kid in front of her is taking up her time by fumbling with the printer, and she doesn't have time to go up two flights of stairs to get to the school library printers.

Terrible.

Waiting it out for only a split second, she busts right into the copy center, startling the poor kid.

"Sorry," she says.

"Hey, Celina, right?" He raises his brows.

"Ina," she corrects instinctively, "but yeah." She's particularly hesitant and finds herself sidling closer to the wall than towards him.   
Hey, and wasn't this the kid with a billion rumors clouding around him? That he's a gangster, that he was arrested before, that he broke someone's nose in school property...? Ina could go on.

Even being a new student in the middle of the year, everyone around her has filled her in completely with the town gossip.   
At the same time, it's absurd to be scared. They're in the same math class, but what does she expect? That Jungkook is suddenly going to body slam her in the eye of the school cameras? Ridiculous.

That's why she finds herself speaking to him again. "Jungkook, right?" A weak affirmation-- as if she didn't know who he was already. He nods, not looking at her, and instead pressing various buttons on the printer.

"Yeah."

The tiny room is getting increasingly awkward as the silence fills the space slowly. She feels herself shrinking.

"Um. Do you need some help?" she blurts and immediately regrets it. She barely even knows how to work the printers here herself how could she possibly go on to help someone else--

"Yeah, that'd be great," he says.

"Well, okay... where's your... you know," she says uneasily in response, shifting her weight to her other foot. She _really_ doesn't have much time now especially if she wants to keep a perfect attendance record.

He hands her something small. "Here."

"Uh." She stares down at the flashdrive. It's rubber, the shape of a bunny, with its head detachable to reveal the USB port. It would be cute if she wasn't so alarmed. "You don't have your laptop?"

This time he's surprised. "Oh, I need it? Normally I have other people print out my stuff for me so I don't know."

"Okay... no, it's okay, I'll just use mine," she says hastily, shrugging off her backpack to retrieve her laptop. Plugging it in, she simultaneously formats everything whilst preparing his paper (a thesis of some sort. It's only two pages long but that's what it's titled, anyway). 

She's moving her fingers as quickly as it is humanly possible because wow, was it not worth helping this guy. Regardless, it smoothly prints out and she hands it to him wordlessly. With him out of the way she immediately begins her own affairs, completely ignoring the boy.

Whether he says thanks or not is unheard to Ina, as she's too busy trying to make the cut for herself. She might've done a good deed this time, but by no means was it worth her own grades.

The next day, Jungkook is absent from math class but Ina doesn't even have to wait until rollcall to realize that. In fact, she happens to simply scan the room and for some, peculiar, peculiar reason, she notices his absence. Not that she's critically paying attention to him or otherwise.

The whole day drags by slow, like a relaxed metronome without a strive. Soon she'll even have to walk home since her after school activities truly ruined her bus schedule. At least it wasn't raining anymore.

But it _was_ foggy outside. And slightly damp.

This weather isn't bad in consideration, and yet Ina's grip on her backpack tightens. It's ridiculous that even now, she never got a full tour of the school. Ironic, how she's been itching to leave school property the entire day, but still lingers when it isn't necessary anymore. Her sneakers sink weakly into the soft soil.

Promptly, she turns around and goes back inside.

She can't believe that she was a quarter away from buying something from the vending machine. It's worse that she only carries a dollar with her at a time too but. A quarter. She could probably find a dusty one lying underneath a table however was it really worth a bar of granola?

Yeah.

Inconspicuously and leaving her bag beside the vending machine, she ends up in the cafeteria, slowly but surely bending down to scan underneath each table. 

Every once in a while her eyes fail her and she bends down to what appears to be a shiny coin; but ends up being trash. After several delusions, she stops and pulls herself up.

Then, at the corner of her eye, at the very edge of the cafeteria, she spots him.

"Jungkook?"

He turns around to the sound of her voice, and--

"You're bleeding!" she yelps, her knees almost buckling. She speeds over quickly, practically stumbling over her own shoes.

"Still?" mumbles Jungkook, gingerly touching the side of his temple.

"And-- and is that a split lip? Or just blood?" Ina squeaks. "Oh my God, let's go to the nurses' office, seriously!" From somewhere underneath his bangs, blood is congealing. 

Jungkook waves her off. "No," he says softly. "Listen, thanks, but I'll be fine."

"Umm, right. Let's go, Jungkook," huffs Ina, stumbling to stand up. She pats him gently on the shoulder. His hair is gleaming with sweat and even from a distance, one could see he was panting.

"What're you even doing here still?" she presses.

"I was off campus. I'm supposed to be picked up by a friend," he says sharply, not disclosing anymore details than necessary.

Ina doesn't pressure about his wounds and instead says, "Why don't you go clean yourself up or something?"

"If that'll make you feel better," sighs Jungkook, looking at her straight in the eye for once. "Let's go, then."

Thank you, says Ina without words. She couldn't imagine the regret she'd feel if she left him bleeding like that.

 

They're sitting silently in the girl's bathroom.

"Here, face towards me," says Ina, swiping several ecofriendly paper towels and running them under the faucet. He obliges silently, simply watching her actions.

Ina wipes along his forehead, watching the paper towel soak up his sweat and blood riddened grime. It's disgusting and crude, but she does it anyway. But why does he do this to himself?

"Huh?" says Jungkook.

"I didn't say anything," says Ina, blinking. She soaks another paper towel.

"Yeah you did," he scoffs, "you asked why I do this to myself."

She flinches while he sighs quietly.

"I don't know what you hear from other people," he says carefully, "but just know that they don't know anything about me."

"I see," she responds, and drops the issue. He's not wrong. In fact, she happens to be cleaning up a boy that she only met and spoke to a few days ago.

Ina stays silent, and to her subconscious, slowly stops wiping his face.

"Ina?"

"Hm?" she says drowsily, glancing back down at him. Realizing that she had been cupping his cheek for a good several seconds, she withdraws her hand at lightning speed.

"Oh! Sorry," she says with an uneasy and slightly embarrassed tone. "I'll get some bandages from the nurses office and I'll just make an excuse if they're there." After speaking, she promptly backs up and leaves him alone in the girls' bathroom, facing the mirror with open wounds.

The bandages had been easy to retrieve and there's nothing in her mind on the entire way except Jungkook. Of course, like he had said, no one knows his context so there's no point in making assumptions, but...

Something tells Ina that those injuries didn't appear because of a fight. She wonders if voicing her assumptions aloud would get him offended, however. But before she settles her thoughts fully, she finds herself already in the bathroom, unraveling the bandage strips and setting the adhesive on the sink ledge.

"Hope that isn't too tight."

"I can handle it."

"Right. I think if you just change your bandages later tonight you'll be fine," she says quietly, still strangely unsettled.

"Huh," he says. Then, after a beat: "Call me later tonight then."

"What?"

"So I don't forget to change them."

"Oh! I don't think I have your number though."

Jungkook immediately fishes deep in his pocket before pulling out his phone.

It's so cracked that the top half of the screen isn't even visible through the jagged glass. She tries her best to punch in her numbers anyway.

After hastily plugging them in, Ina hands it back gingerly, "Okay, great. I'll text you around seven tonight then."

"No, I said call. Call me," he corrects breezily. He stands up, and suddenly she is aware of how much taller he is than her. "Your voice is cute."

Ina doesn't even say anything. Even when he says thanks and leaves the bathroom, he leaves her gaping-- alarmed, and slightly (but only slightly) intrigued.

She looks down to grab her backpack and run after him, but in the corner, she sees something glitter in the illuminating bathroom lights.

A quarter.

 

"Who's this headass that keeps texting me," grumbles Suzy, "saying shit like 'I'm sad you didn't call me yesterday' like... who the hell?" She sighs. It's pathetic. 

Clearly this kid got stood up by someone who gave him a bust number. Oh well. Either that, or someone had some really shaky fingers while punching in those numbers.


	3. suzy n her dominion lmao

She rocks her glass of seltzer back and forth gently, watching the bubbles rise up hastily en masse. There's something so anxious in the air, but she's only one who senses it. 

Nesting in the annex of her purse, is a pistol. It wasn't the presence of the gun that unnerved her, but rather, the context it will be used in later tonight. She pretends to not notice it sliding around as she digs through for her phone, appearing as relaxed as possible.

11:25pm, 35 minutes until showtime. She hands her empty glass to a silent waiter.

Everyone is bustling, not particularly caring that Suzy stood in the middle of the crowd, picking up every piece of little gossip, sweet nothing, and weather talk possible. She wishes she could tune it out, but that would mean blocking the signals from the headquarters. The director would definitely not like that.

She's being watched, too.  
She feels prickly eyes on her back and turns quickly, wanting to face the harasser. But when she does turn around, she's startled. It's hard to believe that someone can be stricken the second they see someone attractive, but it happens.

The guy's hot. And deeply suspicious. She tries to appear not suspicious herself by turning to the food bar and picking at its fine meats.   
While chewing, she reflects on her plan. She truly can't do anything until everyone gets round up into the theatre, where the auction will be held. It's an easy, but long process, which was why they've only assigned one agent to it. 

Simply put, once the auction begins, she'll lock the doors in and call in the specialized force to arrest everyone for counterfeit items and illegal trade. Simple! Suzy truly loves her job. She eats another cube of cheese. Plus, there's always free champagne and food at the highend parties, like these.

She glances over her shoulder swiftly, seeing if the man was still looking or not. He's disappeared from his post, but she ignores it.

That's a lie. 

All of a sudden, he's by her side, except that he's ignoring her and inspecting the food choices. She eyes him carefully as he chooses a slice of roast beef over salami, and hummus over guacamole. They hover over the buffet without words for a good five minutes before Suzy decides to break the wet silence to her own benefit.

"Hi, are you enjoying the food?" she asks with as much nonchalance as she could muster.

He glances up, appearing startled at her sudden question, eyebrows up. But the expression quickly vanishes as he plucks a cube of cheddar from the plate. "It's decent, I'd say. And what about you?"

"I think it's good actually. I'd eat just about anything," laughs Suzy softly, uncrossing her arms. She notices that he does the same, and his right wrist is covered by a large leather watch. The pistol in her purse wobbles.

"Oh, is that so?" he responds lightly. "Then do you recommend anything here?"

In spite of getting the feeling that he's feeling her out, she replies wholeheartedly. "The lox is nice."

"I can't eat raw fish easily, but I'll take your word for it," he says, shifting his weight.

They talk. They talk of nothing but the food and until she feels increasingly more comfortable in the presence of this man. Thank goodness she hadn't turned on the microphone for her in-ear communicator.

"You're cute." He gives her a pleasant, almost embarrassed smile. "Do you mind to come with me for a little bit? We'll be just in time for the auction, don't worry." She narrows her eyes instinctively but pulls herself together.

This is surprising. Perhaps he's simply a womanizer, thinking he could snatch another irrelevant heart to his collection. 

Inwardly, she sneers. She doesn't have much time to waste, but to entertain this buffoon was much too valuable. She obliges with a smile, calm and dangerous. 

He extends a gloved hand and she takes it gently. He knows his way well through the tunnels of the mansion and turns them at a corner.

"This house is pretty confusing," she says, hoping to draw information from him.

He barely even turns back to her to answer. The atmosphere has turned cold. "Yeah."

"How do you know it so well already?"

"I was bored during the wait." He doesn't say anymore than that.

Everything happens under a blink of an eye. 

He has her backed up at the stairwell's wall, manipulating her wrists to his control, and Suzy suddenly understands that this isn't the unsuspecting mastermind nor the plebeian of the crew. She's more confused than anything else as there's no way she couldn't overpower this man in a fight.

"Who are you," he says softly, a breath sidling up at her ear. Suzy notices how he keeps his hand on the wall, while the other is within his pocket, suggesting a certain air of confidence. As if he's testing her. To see if she'd run. Interesting.

He smells of cherries, as well. At least, his white suit does.

"My name's Suzanne," she says, with a similar croon to match his tone, and standing her ground. "You can call me Suzy, if you'd like."

He turns away momentarily and scoffs. "Right. So Suzy, tell me: what do you do for a living?"

Her heart plummets. How did he find out? Was she that terrible of an agent that she can't even integrate into a crowd well enough? But then if so, who is he?

"Me? That's an interesting ice breaker, Mister," she responds, putting a hand on his chest to maintain some stable distance between each other. By doing so, she feels his strong heartbeat underneath her palm and for some reason it unnerves her. She brings her hand to his shoulder instead. "I work in the hospital in this city."

He doesn't seem to notice her alarm, but if he did, he chose to ignore it. He's silent for a moment, running a tongue over his lips swiftly. "Okay, Suzy. Let me put it this way for you," he says, with a forced chuckle, "who do you work for?"

"I'm my own practitioner," she scoffs. "What, you think I can't open my own clinic?" She's quickly fading out of her thin façade and is turning slightly pink at the ears from being so close to him. "First off, what's _your_ name?"

"Mine? Call me Suga," he says offhandedly, still sizing her. "I'm not doubting you at all, Suzy, I just think--"

Suddenly, the door clicks open and a person steps in, only to immediately turn around and out the stairwell, carefully disrupting the situation. Thank the GODS. They must've seemed provocative though apparently, and Suzy cringed at the thought.

Fortunately, Suga takes a step back. He's quiet and Suzy doesn't dare speak. His eyes are bright and stare deeply into Suzy's, and for some reason, it seems that he sees through her.

"I know you're a special one," he says simply. "Don't bother me with lies like that. So who are you? Where are you from?"

Suzy simply presses a smile. "I'm Suzy."

He watches as she leaves (albeit hastily) the stairwell and into the crowd, finding it moot to search after her. Immediately after she's consumed by the crowd, her pace quickens and she brings a hand to her in-ear device.

There's a slight buzz and then it's connected to her mission advisor.

"What's happening?"

"Did you...," she mumbles quietly under her voice so strangers could not hear. "Did you forget to tell me that I'm on a joint mission? Like with another agent?"

There's a pause. "No. This is a solo mission, Suzy."

"Then who--"

"Describe the suspected individual right now."

"Eastern Asian, ectomorph, five foot eight perhaps," Suzy rattles off immediately, "pale, and-- hello?"

It's been disconnected. Her mind is whirling, and she has fifteen minutes to shut the mansion down and release the troops.

"I think you've said enough," says a voice on her right. "Suzy."

"ALL GUESTS TO THE THEATRE ROOM RIGHT NOW TO BEGIN THE MAIN EVENT," echoes a tinny voice over the speakers. As if like ants, all the guests begin packing themselves up and moving in a pack. 

Suzy feels like a salmon, and here she stands with Suga, a rock within the stream.

"What did you do," she bites out, uncertainty creeping into her voice. "Who _are_ you?" 

"I should be asking that to you, but nevermind that. I'm Suga," he deadpans. Rolling his eyes he continues: "Listen, I don't know who you work for, but you make it so clear that you're not here to buy illegal products. So cooperate with me for a bit."

"Depends on what you want," she speaks softly as they shuffle to the wall to avoid being pushed by the crowd.

"Nothing much. Just keep watch while I lock the doors of the theatre," shrugs Suga.

"Wh-...," she trails off, confused. How was it that his plan was the exact same as her's? "Okay," is all she can say in the end.

It's dead silent in the lobby and living room now and it's not any better when Suga returns, barely disheveled.

"How did you do it?" she asks deliberately.

He blinks. "Do what?" 

"Lock the guests in. There's no keyholes in the doors."

"I sealed the hinges," he says with a quizzical expression. "I already disabled the security cameras too, so don't worry."

His answer shows everything about Suga, his work, and his identity. She asks no more to the fellow agent.

"Is Suzy your real name?" he asks, after a bit.

"Yes," says Suzy with a certain tinge of embarrassment. "I guess I shouldn't have had said anything first. Suga's not your real name, right?"

He raises his brows at her, and after a pause, snorts. "Of course not. But this isn't leeway into giving out my real name."

"I'm not asking for it anyway," she says hastily, "I don't think we're ever going to see each other again."

"Oh, well, I wouldn't bet on it. But," he says, fixing his cufflinks, "who knows?" The metal pins glitter in her face, and she turns her eyes down to the ground to avoid the glare.

"Why are you dipping your head?" she hears him scoff. "Why, are you disappointed?"

"Huh? No, no," she shakes her head. "I'm..."

He's laughing. "I am too, Suzy. You seem nice. A sweet girl. In another world where we were simply civilians, I think we would've fallen in love."

"What?" she sputters, jerking her head up.

But he's already looking away adjusting his watch. They stand there silently, her glancing around at the various Baroquian paintings, and him fixing his own affairs. It's as though they came to the party alone and left together.

She shakes her head of the messy thoughts. That's ridiculous. She doesn't even know the guy's real name, and suddenly she feels connected to him? Unbelievable. There's still pleasure found in the idea that he knows her name however.

"Hey," says a guard that just happened to turn the corner. "Aren't you two supposed to be in the theatre right now? No trespassers at this point."

Suga and Suzy look at each other for a split second.  
Suzy digs into her purse without a word and in a single gunshot the guard is down. His head hits the floor with a terrible thud.

Sugar clicks his tongue. "Typically, I try to avoid murder in my schemes."

Suzy stiffens, about to run over to the fallen man but Suga holds her in place by the shoulder. "But I didn't kill him! It's a stun-esque gun-- I've only paralyzed him for half an hour."

"Whatever. We don't have time." 

The clock strikes 12, and its chime resonates throughout the building. It's time.

"Also," he says.

He flips open the familiar watch and presses a round metal button. A shrill beeping emits from it and he begins backing up. They're coming, and they've won again. Both Suga and Suzy. And at that moment, she only hears one phrase murmured from him.

"My real name's Yoongi, actually."

 

Back at the headquarters, Aiyanna groans flipping off her headphones.

"What's up?" says Michelle, from another booth upon seeing her fatigued expression.

"I don't think Suzy knows that we can hear her entire conversation with this guy she's flirting with," says Aiyanna.

Michelle laughs. "At least it's not being recorded. Otherwise, the boss'll flip out."

Aiyanna glances back at the monitor and lets out a breath of laughter. Of course, in big red letters read the automated word "RECORDING...," onscreen. 

Of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> none of these fics are : proofread dkdkjdjd


End file.
